


Gender

by graywhatsit



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dysphoria, Gender Issues, Growing Up, Misgendering, kind of slam poetry i suppose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 04:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4126110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graywhatsit/pseuds/graywhatsit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>growing up non-binary</p><p>or</p><p>"girl"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gender

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know
> 
> something i wrote the other week

ask them what gender is, what it means

and more often than not

you will hear

“it’s what lies between your thighs!”

but

is it?

is that what a gender is:

a squishy pile of flesh generally only used

in order

to preserve species?

what of the men who are men

and yet

don’t have a manhood to speak of?

what of the women who are women

and yet

have nothing but a manhood?

and something even greater to ponder:

what of the individuals 

forced to choose one side or another

when what “lies between their thighs”

hasn’t?

gender does not lie between your thighs

and yet

it does not lie between our ribs

our ears

my gender is every organ

and bone

and muscle

and every 5’1” and a bit of my skin

and every 180lbs of fat and muscle and tissue

it is solely

distinctly

me

name the genders

they will say

boy and girl

boy and girl

they may agree there is no black and white

you are not young or old

a rainbow is not distinct

it is a spectrum

they believe all dichotomies are false dichotomies

and yet

you may not threaten their gender binary

because there is simply

boy and girl

i was born a girl

or so they say

when i was removed from my mother

still trying to give birth to someone

who was no longer there

and bleeding out her life

and receiving someone else’s

they said

“it’s a girl”

a girl

given princesses and pink

good girl

smart girl

and i will not say i did not enjoy princesses and pink

because i did

but girl

she 

her

i was not these

i liked the feminine

with my long dark hair

plushies

dolls

but i liked the masculine

racing through the ozark woods

laughing and howling

catching fireflies barefoot in

dirt and grass and muddy crick water

but who was to say what was feminine

and what was masculine?

i was me

i enjoyed me

i was genderless before i even knew

sex and gender

could be different

that there was no

boy girl

binary

that as the rainbow i learned of

in kindergarten

gender was a spectrum

and i was not on it

 

i hit puberty

hard

and early

“sun spots” became acne

i was growing hair

my soft baby chub was still soft

yet

shifting

into curves i didn’t want any part of

i was one of the first to start wearing a bra

in fourth grade

i did not want this

my hips and breasts

did not stop growing

until i was an hourglass

filled with the sands

counting down until the time

the men my grandfather worked with

called

“legal”

i did not want to be legal either

i wanted to be

me

and i found me

nearly a full decade later

agender

asexual

grayromantic

i did not want to be an object of desire

i wanted to be

me

 

people like me

not cis

they do not match their bodies

can change

it costs too much

financially

mentally

physically

but

it can be done

but

not for everyone

some hips are too large

some breasts are too large

some fat deposits are too large

faces are round and soft and babyish

not the ideal

vaguely masculine

androgynous

agender

everyone thinks of

round

soft

short

always

too

binary

i have always

wanted

to be me

and even now at 20

with large fat deposits

on a short soft body

with thick dark hair everywhere

like the werewolf

i had been in the woods

with wide hips

and unbindable breasts

like the object of desire of men

twice my age

with the soft baby face and

undefined chin

and stature

of a 14 year old on a good day

i cannot be me

yet

yet

yet

i see those who can be

them

and

though i cannot lie

that it stings

somewhere deep in my chest

i am so

unbelievably

amazingly

fantastically

relieved

they can be them

they have found themselves

and can be themselves

and though it’s not the same

it is

barely

more than

enough


End file.
